


Window Climbing

by jenny_wren



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-26
Updated: 2014-05-26
Packaged: 2018-01-26 13:20:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1689806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jenny_wren/pseuds/jenny_wren
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So I read two drunk Clint window climbing fics and thought why does Clint get to have all the fun</p>
            </blockquote>





	Window Climbing

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by the two brilliant fics written for this tumblr prompt
> 
> "i really want an “i accidentally broke into your house/apartment because my friend lives next door to you and i was in the area, drunk, and i thought i was climbing into the right window and falling asleep on the right couch (and i did wonder when my friend got two cats but i didn’t question it) so now i’m hungover and shirtless in your living room so um hi howya doin” au"
> 
> because really, why shouldn't Phil get to join in

Phil woke up to something sitting heavy on his chest, batting at his face. Staying very still he squinted his eyes and looked through his lashes.

Big green eyes stared back at him.

“Mrrrup,” said the cat and patted at his face again with one paw.

Phil smiled as the night before filtered back and he remembered where he was.

“You’re a sweet little thing, aren’t you,” he rubbed his thumb gently over the small fluffy face, “I didn’t know Melinda had decided to get a cat.”

“That’s probably because she hasn’t,” said an amused male voice.

Phil’s eyes flew open, because Melinda definitely hadn’t decided to get a man last he’d heard and this was gossip he needed to know. He sat up in a hurry, the cat did not approve. It hissed and dug his claws into what Phil realized was his undershirt because at some point he’d taken off his shirt and tie.

“Ow,” he said, because he felt he should and knew he was hopelessly hungover because it didn’t hurt anything like it should. He carefully detached the cat and the sharp little claws and set it on the floor beside a second cat, who promptly buffeted his head against Phil’s hands in a bid for attention. “Shoo,” he told them.

The first cat yawned at him. The second took a nice leisurely stretch by reaching up and digging its claws into Phil’s pants leg.

“You’re a menace,” he accused. The cats just blinked back.

Then Phil remembered the strange man, and oh yeah, he was definitely hungover if he was having this much trouble concentrating.

He slowly turned his head and stared at a barefoot man in faded t-shirt and ratty jeans. The stranger looked unassuming until he smiled and then his whole face lit up. Phil stared some more.

“You are not Melinda,” he said finally, because he was sure of that much at least.

“No, I’m not. Well spotted,” the man grinned cheerfully at him, “and Melinda, assuming you mean Melinda the smoking hot Chinese chick who lives on the second floor, doesn’t have cats either.”

Phil continued to stare at him, “I will _pay_ you to call Melinda a chick where she can hear you,” he said earnestly.

The man laughed, “I’m not that stupid, thank you very much.”

Phil had been taking in the rest of the room while they spoke and the huge TV in one corner of the room was becoming inescapable.

“Melinda doesn’t have a five foot flatscreen.”

“Sixty-two inches please. Every inch counts, you know.”

There was something lascivious in the way he said that and his face scrunched up in an almost comical leer. Phil studied him uncertainly, “Are you flirting with me?”

“No,” he said in a way that meant yes. “I mean, I’m trying, but I think you’re a little bit too hungover to cope with my best lines.”

“Uh huh.” Phil was way too hungover for this entire conversation, which was a pity because he’d have liked to have followed that up. “Why are there cats and a TV here then, if we’re agreed that they aren’t Melinda’s?”

“Well the TV is mine. The cats aren’t though, they just like to hang out here sometimes.”

Phil looked at the two cats, who were watching him from the top of a gigantic cat tree that took up almost one entire wall, and mentally called bullshit.

The man ducked his head and rubbed his face sheepishly, mumbling something under his breath about needing to keep them away from the couch. Phil glanced down at the couch and was completely unsurprised to find the fabric covered in snags and runs from two sets of determined claws. 

It was probably a good thing it wasn’t Melinda’s couch, she would have a fit. Also Melinda’s coffee table had vanished, as had all the other little touches that said somebody who had an idea about interior decorating lived there.

“This isn’t Melinda’s living room.”

“Nope.”

“Where has Melinda’s living room gone?”

“I don’t know, but I suspect Melinda’s living room is totally innocent and is actually still on the second floor attached to the rest of Melinda’s flat where it’s supposed to be.” The man sounded amused again.

Phil could feel his brain grinding towards a conclusion. “This isn’t Melinda’s flat?” he checked.

“Nope.”

“This is your flat?”

“Yep.”

Phil could feel his eyes grow wide as he reached a conclusion, “I’m in the wrong flat?”

“That’s my guess.”

“Oh.”

The stranger laughed, his pretty eyes crinkling up with humor, “Oh?”

“That makes so much more sense.” Phil sighed with relief as all his confusion evaporated. Then he frowned, “Wait a minute, I’m in the wrong flat. I’m in _your_ flat.”

“Man, how much did you drink last night? I’m starting to think I should be taking you to hospital to check you haven’t permanently pickled your brain.”

“We were celebrating,” Phil’s brain was operational enough for him to cut himself off before he could elaborate on the successful mission that they pulled off by the skin of their teeth with no major casualties, “we celebrating a successful mission that we’d pulled off by the skin of our teeth,” Phil slapped one hand over his mouth, apparently he wasn’t as recovered as he’d thought, 

“anyway I decided to come and tell Melinda about it, which was possibly not the smartest decision I’ve ever made. If for no other reason than she’d have killed me for waking her up.” Phil winced at the thought. Melinda was _mean_ when provoked.

“I see,” said the stranger. Which was more than Phil did.

“I’m in your flat. Shouldn’t you be mad?” He was still a little fuzzy on the etiquette of the situation but Phil thought there should be a lot more shouting involved.

The stranger shrugged his very fine shoulders, “’S okay. It’s not like you threw up or anything. And it’s kinda my fault for leaving the window open for the cats. Though as I’m on the third floor I really didn’t think it would be much of a problem.”

“You leave your window open? You shouldn’t do that, anyone could get in.”

“Yeah including ridiculously hot men in black – honestly it was three o’clock in the morning, why were you wearing sunglasses? – so it’s not all bad.”

“That was definitely flirting,” Phil accused with delight.

“You got me.” The stranger held his hands up in surrender.

“Why are you flirting with me?”

“Didn’t we cover that with the ridiculously hot man in black thing?”

Phil drooped in his seat, “I’m not actually a man in black,” he denied sadly. 

“Well of course not, secret government agencies don’t actually exist.” Fortunately, before Phil could explain how wrong that was, the man continued, “But it’s all good. You pull off the ridiculously hot accountant just as well. I bet you strike fear into the hardiest soul when you turn up to do an audit.”

“Maybe,” Phil allowed. He glanced away before his treacherous tongue could let slip exactly what his job involved, and as he did so he noticed he had both a pillow and a blanket. “Why do I have a pillow and a blanket?”

“You’d have been cold without a blanket, and sleeping without a pillow just gives you an awful crick in your neck.”

“Oh. That makes sense.” Phil thought about that for second. “Wait, no it doesn’t. Where did I get them from?”

“I gave them to you of course. What sort of host do you think I am anyway?”

Phil was starting to suspect it wasn’t just because he was hungover that this conversation made no sense.

“So you’re telling me I drunkenly broke into your apartment, and you just gave me a pillow and blanket and let me sleep it off on your sofa?”

“Sure,” said the stranger, as if that was perfectly normal sort of thing to do. “I got some water into you first though. I’d have given you a couple of ibuprofen but you didn’t seem to be all that aware and I was worried you might be allergic or something.”

“No I’m just allergic to coriander and then only mildly,” said Phil like that was the important point. He shook his head at himself. “That was not what I meant to say.”

“But now I know not to take you out for Indian.”

“I can eat Indian if I know they’ll leave the coriander out. There’s this great place near my apartment.”

“Great, you can take us there for our second date.”

“Second date?”

“Sure. Since I asked you I figure I should organize our first date.”

“You asked me on a date? When?” Phil had officially lost all control of this conversation.

“Last night obviously.”

“Obviously,” Phil parroted. And really it was obvious because he’d never met the man before. He would definitely remember if he had.

“You kept going on about my pretty eyes,”

And oh, Phil just had a horrid flash of memory.

“And I said if you kept that up I wasn’t going to be responsible for my actions, but you didn’t stop, so I asked you out and you said _yes please_ ,” the man folds his arms firmly as if to say, so there.

“I wasn’t in my right mind.”

“Well no,” the man itched at his nose looking shifty and sheepish.

By some miracle Phil marshalled enough brain cells to realize he was about to talk himself out of going on a date with a man so thoroughly out of his league he’d never have asked if he’d been sober, hadn’t asked even though he’d been six sheets to the wind.

“I’d have been a lot smoother if I’d been in my right mind,” he said eventually.

The man bounced once like an excited little boy, then stilled himself, ducking his head and grinning shyly, “So shall we go?”

“Go? Go where?”

“On our date. There’s this great breakfast place around the block.”

“I should be taking you out for breakfast to say thank you for,” Phil waved one hand around the room trying to encompass the entire situation.

“Oh no, you spend the night at my place, I take you out for breakfast. That’s a date rule.”

Phil couldn’t help feeling there was something wrong in there somewhere but he wasn’t really up on the rules of dating so he nodded agreeably, “If you say so.”

“Great, let’s get going before all the bacon pastries are gone.”

It occurred to Phil that he had agreed to go on a date with a man whose name he didn’t even know. He was aware that this should bother him, but _bacon pastries_. 

Then a second, more important, thought popped into his head,

“Coffee?” he checked.

The man grinned, “They have truly excellent coffee.”

Last concern settled Phil grinned back. Now all he had to do was stand up without his head falling off. This could be tricky.


End file.
